It Was For The Best
by sarahyyy
Summary: She loves him. He loves her. She is marrying his best friend. He is not stopping her. It was for the best. Nominated for Dramione Awards!


"**It Was For the Best"**

**Disclaimer: **Ido not own anything that you recognise.

**A/N: **This story was written for the dmhgficexchange on Live Journal and is nominated for Dramione Awards so please second this story if you like it! You'd have my gratitude.

* * *

Warm, large hands grabbed her in the dark as she walked inside her room. Immediately, she was pulled into a tight embrace, his lips mashed down against hers. Her hands immediately snaked around his neck, her fingers gripped at his hair, her body pressed tightly against his, her lips parted to grant him access. Words were hardly needed. It was a routine that they both knew well enough.

"We shouldn't be doing this," his smooth, eloquent voice, thickly laced with arousal, broke the silence. Yet, his nimble fingers continued to unbutton her shirt, throwing it at one side; his lips continued to savour every bit of bare skin he could find.

"I know," she replied, but it didn't stop her from unbuckling his belt.

"He's my best friend," he added. Whether to convince himself to stop, or to convince _her _into stopping, he wasn't so sure. Yet, his hands seemingly pulled her closer. His mouth searched hers in the dark.

"I know," she whispered, but she pushed herself closer to him, drawing a desperate groan out from him as he forced himself to undo the button of her jeans faster.

"You're marrying him in two days," Yet, he had managed to wrench her jeans off her and then his hands were everywhere all at once.

"I know." Her voice came out in a hurried breath. "But you still came."

His lust-clouded eyes grazed over her body for a moment. Then he carried her to the bed. No more words were spoken.

* * *

"Does it bother you?" she asked as she lay in his arms in the aftermath. She was absentmindedly raking her fingers in his fine platinum hair, the delicate tresses that framed his pointed features. "Me marrying Blaise, I mean."

"Should it?" His eyes were closed and he showed no signs of emotion. Not a twitch of the eye.

"I don't know. You tell me." When he didn't reply, she asked, "What are we, Malfoy?"

This time, his body tensed and stiffened at her enquiry. "What do you want us to be? _You _tell me."

She snuggled up closer to him and his body relaxed. He pulled her closer to him, relishing in the warmth she radiated. For a moment or two, the both of them just laid there in silence.

"Have you…" she trailed off, shutting her eyes.

"Have I…?" he prompted.

"Have you ever loved me?" She had meant for her words to sound nonchalant, but instead it came out as a broken whisper, a desperate need to know.

"Would it change anything? Does it even matter?" She kept silent. "_DOES IT_?" He roared. Pulling himself away from her, he sat up. She had crossed the line.

"It matters…to me."

"But it wouldn't change anything?"

Her head hung down, "No."

"We've been through this right at the beginning. We agreed that there wouldn't be any strings attached. You knew I wouldn't be able to give you love. You _knew _and you didn't leave. You could have left anytime. You could have left when you met Blaise. You _knew _that it was impossible for me to love you, but _you still stayed_. So pray tell, Granger, why the hell are you asking me this now?" His whole body was shaking, yet he still didn't look at her. If he did, he was afraid that he would lose control.

"I… I just wanted to _know_. I just… I thought…" A solitary tear trailed a path down her cheek. She wiped it away with the back of her hand.

"You thought what? That I _love_ you? Now let me turn the question back: have _you _ever loved _me_? _Have you_?" He turned back and looked straight into her eyes. He didn't know if he wanted her to reply affirmatively or negatively.

She turned to look at her own palms and kept silent, the cream coloured bed sheet sliding slowly down her upper body.

"Damn it Granger, damn it! All you ever wanted was to see me in pain. Am I a joke to you? Huh? Do you find it immensely enjoyable to tear me down into pieces?" His hands gripped her shoulders hardly, shaking her. "I hate you, Granger, I fucking hate you." His breathing was ragged and his muscles tight with his grip on her. Then suddenly, he let her go. Shaking his head in disgust —of himself or of her, he couldn't really tell—, he stood up and started dressing himself. She didn't stop him.

His hand was on the door knob when he turned back to her, his eyes cold and hard, "If it matters so much to you, the answer is no."

"Will you be back tomorrow?"

_No_. "Do you want me to?"

She bit her lip. Then she nodded hesitantly.

He gave her a curt nod, "I'll be here." He turned to leave.

That night, neither of them slept a wink. Hermione, because the truth haunted her; Draco, because his lie haunted him.

* * *

She sat on her bed, cross-legged, waiting for him. Asking him if he loved her was a mistake. She had thought that he might actually feel something for her. When he asked her if she loved him, she wanted to tell him that she did. But she couldn't do it.

She couldn't make it so difficult for the both of them.

Because he was right. She had known, right from the start that it was impossible for anything to blossom out of their unorthodox relationship —if it were even called one—, but she had grown to enjoy her time spent with him. She had grown to hope that she would grow on him. She had grown to hope that he would one day love her.

Then came Blaise, charmingly debonair, determined to win her heart. Draco and Blaise were both so different, yet so alike. She had allowed herself to be courted by him. She was tired of loving someone that couldn't reciprocate her feelings. She wanted somebody to love her. Because it was clear by then that…

That Draco Malfoy couldn't.

And the saddest thing was that she _wanted_ him to.

So she stayed. Even though she had Blaise by her side, she stayed with Draco. Not because Blaise wasn't good enough, no, but because Draco made it so difficult for her to stay faithful to Blaise.

Without even noticing herself, the tears she had tried so hard to avoid came welling up in her eyes. She couldn't stop it, so she cried. She cried for all those times she thought he might love her, she cried for yesterday night where he crushed her hopes, she cried for the first time she realised that she loved him, she cried for being foolish enough to fall for him in the first place. She cried until everything in front of her became blur, became numb.

Then she felt arms —_his arms_— rocking her gently in his embrace, hands —_his hands_— rubbing her back slowly. She heard his voice whispering soothing words to her. She felt him press his lips against her forehead chastely.

"Tell me what to do. Let me make you feel better."

It was at times like that in which she thought that he could possibly love her.

"Love me, please, just love me."

He answered by capturing her lips in a scorching kiss.

* * *

If anyone had asked him why he had lied to her that night —that is if anyone even _knew_— he would have said that it was for the best. Because truly, it was. Blaise was his best friend. Blaise would treat her well. Because Blaise loved her.

A nagging voice at the back of his head told him that he loved her too. More than Blaise did, even.

But it didn't matter. She was going to marry Blaise and live happily ever after.

_It doesn't have to be that way…_

He had contemplated not going back the next day and just leave the country. But who was he kidding? He would give anything to see her again. He knew he had hurt her deeply. He couldn't leave her like that. He had to make it right.

But he couldn't give her what she wanted most. He couldn't love her. Not at the expense of Blaise. He couldn't —he _wouldn't_— do that to Blaise.

But when he saw her crying there, all thoughts of Blaise evaporated into thin air. He wouldn't make her suffer for Blaise. And if Blaise truly loved her too, he would understand.

* * *

"Leave with me," he had asked. His hands rubbed soothing circles on her back. He frowned slightly as he thought of the consequences of them doing so, but he shook it off quickly.

Her eyes snapped to his, "But…Blaise?"

"He'll understand."

She didn't reply. Her eyebrows were furrowed together.

"Leave with me. We'll leave this place together and go somewhere where nobody knows us, somewhere nobody will judge us. Please Granger, leave with me." He pulled her close to him, unwilling to let go.

"Malfoy?"

"Hmm?"

"Do you love me?" Her eyes locked onto his.

"Will it change anything?"

"Yes." She smiled at the similarities of this conversation and the one that had just taken place yesterday.

He nodded in answer to her question, never having said that out loud to anyone before. But she cocked her head slightly as a mischievous grin tug at her face, "Say it."

"I love you." His voice was soft but unwavering.

"How much?" she teased.

"More than you could possibly count." His thumb grazed her cheek and then he leaned in to kiss her. "I love you."

"Then yes," she said as he released her from the kiss.

"Say it." A familiar smirk crept onto his face as he echoed her words.

She laughed, her eyes twinkling in joy, "Yes, I'll leave with you."

He kissed her again, and this time, she felt him smile into the kiss.

* * *

Blaise woke up on his wedding day to see a large grey owl —Draco's owl— at his window sill, waiting silently for him. A sad smile graced his handsome face even before he read the note.

The note was short, consisted of only two sentences, actually:

'_It was for the best'_, written in Draco's elegant handwriting, while _'Please understand'_, was written in Hermione's loopy handwriting underneath it. The note wasn't signed. It didn't need to be signed.

He sighed resignedly. "Saw it coming…" he mumbled to himself.

Before Hermione and he had gotten together, he had seen them once together, at the Chudley Cannon games. He had originally assumed that Hermione was just a passing fancy of Draco, so he went on to court her. Draco had scowled the first time he had told him about his intentions, but Blaise had shrugged it off. He thought he could make her happy, but she was happier with Draco.

They were right. Their leaving _was_ for the best.

Despite himself, he chuckled at the irony as he owled his mother. Boy, she was going to be so mad. How was he going to tell her that his bride ran off with his best man?

* * *

Years later, it was observed that when asked why it happened, Draco, Hermione and Blaise's answers were all alike: a wry smile paired with, "It was for the best."


End file.
